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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24152023">Charls the humble hat maker</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightrayspath/pseuds/Nightrayspath'>Nightrayspath</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Fairy Tale Elements, Hats are magic, Hatter Charls, M/M, alternative universe, kind of a Soulmate AU</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 19:35:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,076</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24152023</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightrayspath/pseuds/Nightrayspath</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time in a Kingdom long forgotten there lived a hat maker. Mind you, he was not any hat maker. Charls was the best hatter in all of Vere. He had made hats for royalty and peasants alike. The prize for one of his precious creations varied. Sometimes it cost a fortune and sometimes a pie baked with a touch of love. Every single one of his hats had a touch of magic, a touch of something otherworldly. Some would say they glowed with an aura of mystery, others would say that they were eerie. True, they could be that and so much more.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Charls the humble hat maker</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>The third and last one of the fics I had written for the capri fashion zine.<br/>This one was so much fun to write. <br/>Enjoy ~</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once upon a time in a Kingdom long forgotten there lived a hat maker. Mind you, he was not any hat maker. He was the best hatter in all of Vere. He had made hats for royalty and peasants alike. The prize for one of his precious creations varied. Sometimes it cost a fortune and sometimes a pie baked with a touch of love. Every single one of his hats had a touch of magic, a touch of something otherworldly. Some would say they glowed with an aura of mystery, others would say that they were eerie. True, they could be that and so much more.</p>
<p>Charls was proud of every single one of the hats that he had created with his own hands. His shop was small, but cozy. There were no hat examples lining the walls, no showcases filled with hats. The walls were bare and painted a warm maroon brown. A simple couch surrounded by the most cozy armchairs sat next to the fireplace. A porcelain tea set hand-painted with pink roses sat on the old wooden table. </p>
<p>When one stepped foot into his shop, one could not simply buy a premade hat. Each of the hats was made to fit one person. One person's head and one person’s dreams and hopes. Those who order a hat from him would not know the design till he handed it over. It was tradition. As his master before him had taught him. </p>
<p>Once the customer placed the hat on their head, most had a hard time taking it off again. For it showed them a world without pain, without suffering. A world custom-made for them. A magical world that disappeared as soon as the hat was lifted off. Oftentimes the customers that stumbled through his door only needed a spark of hope to ignite. Change hardly happened without a spark of hope. </p>
<p>It was a rainy day as one of those customers stumbled through his door. Charls had been drinking his afternoon tea and nibbling at a piece of cake that the baker's wife had made as a thank you for the wonderful tophat he had made for her grandson. A young man stumbled into his shop. He was more of a teenage, no older than sixteen. He was drenched to the bone and dark shadows were hidden in his blue eyes. His long blond hair framed his beautiful face in a wet tangle. He was silent and did not speak a word, as he slowly stepped inside. </p>
<p>“Oh dear, You need a towel.” Charls had exclaimed and promptly managed to knock against the table. His tea spilled all over his trousers. </p>
<p>“Oh, now we both need one” Charls said as he was fretting over the mess he had just created. It did not help that the young man was still slowly dripping onto the floor.  His hands fluttered around in a panic. His master had always said that he could not deal with stressful situations. He feared that his assessment had been spot on.</p>
<p>The boy blinked at him in confusion as Charls nearly tripped again in his haste to find a fluffy towel. He seemed even more confused as Charls hastily started to rub his wet hair with the overly large fluffy towel he had managed to find in the backroom.</p>
<p>“Do you want some tea?” Charls asked as the boy just remained silent. The eerie quietness made him uneasy. He was itching to draw a hat. Something beautiful that could shield the poor boy from the shadows that haunted him.</p>
<p>At last he nodded and Charls let out a sigh of relief as he guided him towards one of the armchairs. It had been the first meeting of many. Laurent had come to him with shadows snapping at his heels. Quite literally. Nightmares were drawn to the poor boy’s pain. Yet none could be seen on his face. With every afternoon tea the coldness slowly melted from his face and a kind and clever boy was revealed underneath. Yet darkness always returned the moment he stepped outside his door. </p>
<p>So Charls did what he did best. What he had learned over the centuries. Age was a funny thing that twisted and changed. He had long forgotten how many years had passed since his master had chosen to leave and die like any mortal. The shop was ever-present and never-changing. Charls pulled out a fabric of the most beautiful blue. It looked like the colour of the ocean underneath the brightest sun. It would match so perfectly with Laurent’s haunted eyes. Gently, he started to cut the fabric into the pieces he would need. On each piece, he drew the runes he had learned by heart. Protection, Love, Hope and Dreams, it should become his shield against the darkness. It felt like the most precious satin beneath his hands. He took out another fabric, this time in the shade of the night sky. A dark blue that seemed almost black. The night and the darkness were not the same. Night was a time of shelter, of rejuvenation and of peace. It was followed by the dawn of rebirth. The nightmares were the darkness that haunted him even into the light of day. So the night satin was there to keep the nightmares at bay. So that the sweetest dreams could sprout and grow beneath the warmth of the moonlight. <br/>He started humming as he pulled out needle and thread. A song so ancient that the language had long been forgotten. The thread was made of silk. A silk spun by the lunar moth that lived for one beautiful day. Its wings were the most shimmering white. The silk thread was like an ever-changing chameleon.  It changed its colour to match the fabric it was sewn into. Before his eyes the silver white slowly became as blue as the fabric.The melody rose and fell as his needle moved. </p>
<p>Once he started, he could not put the hat down. It slowly started to take shape beneath his hand. As the moon rose, the hat was finished. A small golden starburst was attached to the side, along it was a white feather for flight out of danger. He hummed the last note in contentment. A proud smile pulled at his lips. He was always proud of all of his creations. Now he had become quite famished. If he had eaten more than he usually would nobody would have to know. </p>
<p>He had given it to Laurent with the words if he ever felt like he was in danger or if he wanted to escape for a moment he should put it on. With a wink Charls said that it was a neat little hat trick. He watched with pleasure as Laurent treated the hat as something precious. For it was precious.</p>
<p>Not even a week later, Laurent stumbled into the shop with wide eyes. He had been transported to a meadow when he had put the hat on. It was the meadow he and his brother had used to race their horses. He had managed to escape his uncle thanks to it. He had hugged Charls then and Charls ignored the dampness that spread on his clothes. For Laurent, the hat was the most priceless gift. The hat became his refuge during the worst time of his life. His nightmares no longer increased. His nights were no longer haunted by his screams. It was a safe haven in the storm. </p>
<p>Charls had nearly suffocated on his own tea as Laurent requested to let him become his apprentice. After much discussion and some veiled threats from Laurent, Charls had suddenly gotten himself an apprentice. Life with an apprentice was good. Laurent had the most poisonous tongue that could turn all those away that wanted to harm someone. One barbed word from Laurent and most people stormed out of the shop. </p>
<p>Teaching Laurent the art of his craft was as easy as breathing. He was a wonderful student that absorbed knowledge like a sponge. His hands had never sewn before and the first few attempts he almost pricked himself more in the finger than he inserted the needle into the fabric. It was a time of laughter and healing. Laurent was starting to heal. The shadows receded with every morning that Charls woke him with the smell of freshly brewed tea. Every talk and every silence between them slowly eased the aches. Every rhythmic movement of the needle was a soothing melody. A little bit of magic was the icing on the cake. His laughs started coming more naturally. Smiles lit up his face where there used to be a blank mask. Charls was pleased, and now there seemed to be the first spring of love sprouting from the once destroyed soil. </p>
<p>Charls was watching him with barely concealed amusement as he tried not to glance at their newest customer. Damianos, or as he had introduced himself as Damen, was a gentle giant. Charls had caught Laurent more than once just staring at the blatantly displayed arm muscles. He would be Laurent’s very first own customer. The two of them were either arguring or bantering in a way that looked like flirting to anyone with eyes. </p>
<p>The heart eyes the two of them were making towards each other had become Charls’ greatest amusement. Laurent had locked himself into the work room throughout the night. </p>
<p>The sound of iron hitting iron could be heard. The smell of fire rose in the shop, yet there was no chance that it would ever catch on fire. The workroom was bathed in heat. Golden light shone out from beneath the door. The next day, he presented Charls with the hat that was not a hat. It was a crown of golden laurels. Beautiful in its simplicity, and it would look wonderful nestled between Damen’s dark curls. </p>
<p>After Laurent had handed Damen the crown he was overcome with longing as he lay in the darkness of his room. He put the hat on Charls had gifted him. It remained his most precious possession. When he opened his eyes he was standing in the meadow of days of peace and happiness. Yet he was not alone. He had not been alone in his world. For the first time, someone else was there. Damen was standing on one of the hills. It had startled Laurent so badly that Laurent had immediately pulled the hat off. Damen had seen Laurent in his world as well. They kept on stumbling into each other. </p>
<p>“Why was Damen there?” Laurent asked Charls as he nibbled on one of the cookies the librarian’s wife had baked. </p>
<p>“Love.” Charls answered as he took a sip of his tea. Laurent choked on a crumb of cookie. Charls gently hit his back.</p>
<p>“All right, dear boy?” He asked with a worried frown.</p>
<p>“Love?” Laurent asked with a croak. </p>
<p>“I never told you? I was sure I told you.” Charls said as he tapped his chin in thought.</p>
<p>“Told me what?” Laurent asked with a suspicious frown. </p>
<p>“Soulmates can meet in their worlds should both have access to them.” Charls said with a shrug. Laurent let out a strangled noise, dropping his cookie. It fell into the milk and caused splatters to spread onto the old wood.</p>
<p>“I have to go.” Laurent said as he stumbled out. He looked much like Charls had felt during their first meeting. Maybe now the two would stop dancing around each other. The moon eyes were only adorable for a short period of time.</p>
<p>Indeed, the two of them managed to sort everything out. Charls watched them with a smile. Laurent was happy. There was no need for him to lead an immortal lonely existence inside a hat shop. Charls had no plans of retiring as of yet. He would continue to watch over him. People needed his hats. They were glimpses of peace in moments where peace seemed like a long forgotten dream. </p>
<p>The doorbell above his door jingled and a young boy stepped inside. Curly brown hair and the most beautiful eyes. Long dangling earrings decorated with the finest sapphires hung on his ears. </p>
<p>“Welcome.” Charls said with a smile. There was always someone that needed him. So he would do his duty. He would help those that needed help as best as he could. For he was nothing more than a humble hat maker.</p>
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